


Ready to Call This Love

by WhiteOak



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Canon-Typical Violence, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Hurt Tim Drake, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, M/M, Sort Of, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, awkward truce to lovers?, baby Tim's adorable hero-crush on Robin!Jason, except the enemies part is mostly in the past, no beta we die like robins, significant phrase your soulmate will say to you is written on your skin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-20
Updated: 2020-05-13
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:34:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23750914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhiteOak/pseuds/WhiteOak
Summary: Tim’s known his soulmate was the second Robin since he was eleven years old and chasing the dynamic duo across the rooftops with his camera. His world came crashing down when Jason Todd was pronounced dead before they even got to meet, but he saw it as his duty to uphold his soulmate’s legacy and become Batman’s third partner in his place. He might never find love, but at least he knows he’s doing good in the world.Then the Red Hood appeared.
Relationships: Tim Drake/Jason Todd
Comments: 98
Kudos: 933





	1. Chapter 1

_There will come a time when your soulmate before you, and it may be the first time you see them, or the hundredth, but you will find yourself seeing them in a new light. This moment is when your bond is formed with them, when you fall in love with them. This is one of the most special moments of your life. And in that moment, your soulmate will speak the words you’ve carried for so long, and everything will fall into place. The words that once only you could see will be visible to all the world._

Tim was eleven when he found out who his soulmate was.

He’d been chasing Batman and Robin across the rooftops for a year when Dick Grayson turned in the cape and moved out. By that time, Tim had already filled an album with shots of the dynamic duo, steadily less blurry and better lit with each new instalment.

He’d quietly lamented over the loss of the partnership, and although he couldn’t be sure, he thought Batman was missing his partner too.

He watched as a young hero named Nightwing began to show up on the news occasionally, recognised Dick Grayson’s circus flare in the blue and gold costume, was sad but pleased to know that he was still one of the heroes protecting the public, even if it was in another city.

Months passed until one night, Tim ventured out with his camera to find another boy in red and green on Batman’s heels.

Tim liked the new Robin right away.

He was everything Tim wasn’t – strong, confident and fiery. He was impulsive and sometimes rash, but Tim couldn’t help but admire how fearless he was, pursuing crooks and villains and flying to the aid of civilians with seemingly no second thought for the consequences.

It didn’t take much to uncover his identity – Bruce Wayne had adopted a new ward only months before the new Robin’s appearance, after all. Tim couldn’t find much about Jason except that he’d come from the streets of Crime Alley, which only made Tim admire him all the more. To have come from such beginnings and, instead of surrendering to the life of crime, to rise so far above it to take the mantel of Batman’s partner, was truly amazing.

His camera lens strayed more and more from Batman to his energetic partner, and his albums began to fill with shots of the newest Boy Wonder.

He began sneaking out with his camera more nights than ever (which was easy now the housekeeper was only checking in every second day), just for the thrill of seeing Robin in action.

Then, about nine months after the first appearance of Jason as Robin, it happened.

It was a night of crime fighting much like any other. Tim shadowed the duo on their way through the Bowery and found a good vantage point on top of a fire escape as they stopped to intervene with a robbery.

He’d watched with wide eyes as Jason dispatched the thugs in his particular style, graceful and rough, reckless yet precise. He moved like he was light as air, and threw punches with the force of a truck. Afterwards, while Batman was cuffing the crooks, Jason helped the crying woman to her feet with a comforting smile. Tim didn’t usually get to see this gentle side of Jason, and felt his heart swell as Robin took the time to steady the woman and rub her arm reassuringly.

“You’re safe now,” he told her, and Tim’s camera nearly slipped from between his fingers in his shock.

Setting it hastily aside, he scrabbled at his collar to undo the buttons and push up his shirt to one side, craning his neck awkwardly to look down at his collarbone. Sure enough, there were his soul-words, just as they’d always been, but now instead of almost blending into his skin, they were darkening before his eyes and seemed to shimmer with energy, a feeling of delicious warmth spreading across his shoulder.

_You’re safe now_

He’d found his soulmate.

That night, something changed in Tim.

He carried himself straighter, he didn’t feel like nobody anymore.

He was the soulmate of Jason Todd, of Robin, Boy Wonder.

He meant something. Maybe no one wanted him now, but someone _would_. Someone fantastic. Someone heroic.

It was unusual for people to hear their soul-words from someone without properly meeting them – most people’s soul-words were spoken in the same conversation – but then, having a vigilante as a soulmate wasn’t exactly usual either. Tim didn’t mind, because the words on his shoulder were a _guarantee_ that he’d get to meet his hero sooner or later.

In the same way other kids his age were dreaming about their favourite actors or singers noticing them miraculously at a con or stage show and discovering they were soulmates, Tim dreamt about being rescued by his Robin.

He’d lie awake in bed at night and imagine being in danger, cornered by thugs in some dark alley perhaps, who were demanding his camera or phone or something. Robin, who was patrolling alone that night, would hear their shouts, and come to his aid.

He liked to imagine Robin might swoop down, catch him up with one arm around his waist, and swing him to the top of the nearest building. He’d put Tim down and smile reassuringly at him.

“You’re safe now,” he’d say, kindly and softly, just like he’d said to the woman in the alley.

And Tim would smile back at him, and pull back the collar of his shirt to reveal those same words written on his skin. “I know.”

(And ooh, wouldn’t it be perfect if those were Jason’s words? It would be just like something out of the movies)

These scenarios became something to retreat into when he was lonely – which was often – and he found himself doing it more and more often as the years went on.

Also, he’d noticed when he was twelve, something about the other boy’s legs was making him feel some kind of way. There were certain shots in his album that he had trouble dragging his eyes away from. Watching Jason in action made him breathless and giddy in a way he’d never felt before.

Oh, he’d been naïve. And sentimental, nauseatingly so. But that raw, inexperienced, puppy-like hero-crush had got him through his miserable childhood in that cold, empty house. Those silly, unrealistic dreams had filled him with warmth and hope.

And even if he knew later that it wasn’t really the right attitude to take, basing himself around who his soulmate was, there was no denying that the bond he felt for Jason was very much real, right from the beginning.

And, for a while, Tim was happy.

Tim was thirteen when he found out his soulmate was dead.

Sitting on the floor in the darkness of the empty living room, illuminated by the glow of the television, watching with wide eyes as the headline scrolled across the screen.

_Wayne ward pronounced dead after tragic accident abroad._

He’d been unable to breathe, unable to think. His body trembled uncontrollably, the empty mug he’d been clutching fell to the floor and tipped over, spilling the dregs of his cocoa onto the rug. Cold, awful despair engulfed him.

Robin - _wonderful, brave, fantastic Robin_ \- had been killed. His soulmate was gone. Gone before they’d even had the chance to meet. What was the point of two people being made for each other if they never even got the chance? If one was torn from this world and the other left behind, doomed to a life without love?

What was Tim supposed to do now?

There was no one to tell, no one to turn to. He was alone most nights by that age, the housekeeper only checking in twice a week. Even if his parents had been there, they weren’t the sort of people you could go to with problems like this. They’d probably insist that it was wishful thinking Robin had been his soulmate. Or even worse, they’d tell him it was for the best – that he wouldn’t be tied down to anyone now.

He turned off the TV, vaguely intending to go to bed, but wasn’t able to make his body move. At some point he must have fallen asleep, because he woke to the sound of the housekeeper bustling in, scolding him for staying up late watching movies and for his carelessness for the stain on the carpet.

Too numb to argue, Tim forced his stiff body out of the foetal position, and went to get dressed for school.

Tim was still thirteen when he took up his soulmate’s mantel, to continue his work.

It was his duty, he reasoned, to make sure that Jason’s death didn’t mark the end of an era, the end of the partnership between the darkness of Batman and the light of Robin, which had been so effective in keeping hope alive in Gotham.

He’d begged Dick Grayson to retake the name first, but had been unsuccessful.

It had dawned on him then, staring up at Jason’s suit in its display case in the cave, that maybe his soul being linked with Jason’s _was_ for a reason after all. Maybe it was their fate to fight for the same cause, together in _spirit_ if not physically. Maybe it was Tim’s duty to take up the mantel from his fallen soulmate and fill in as the Robin which Batman so desperately needed.

And so he donned the cape and mask, and pushed himself to his very limits working and training, hoping that he could be half the Robin that Jason had been. He’d found a new purpose, a way to do good.

And for a while, Tim was content.

Tim was sixteen when he found out his soulmate was alive.

Sixteen when the other man had crashed through the window of Titans Tower and beat him to within an inch of his life, leaving him to die with Jason’s name written in Tim’s blood on the wall over where he lay, unconscious and barely breathing.

Sixteen when he’d been branded the Replacement, the Pretender, not a loving tribute to Jason’s memory, but a stain on his legacy, an insult to his name.

The other Titans had found him there later, had carried him to the infirmary, where Tim had curled on his side, pain and anger constricting his throat so all he could choke out were broken sobs.

His soulmate was alive.

His soulmate wasn’t dead.

His soulmate had attacked him.

His soulmate hated him.

…His soulmate was a _dick_.

Jason had screamed _‘You think you’re good enough to be Robin?’,_ rage and pain emanating from him so powerfully Tim could almost see it.

Part of him almost felt sorry for Jason, but it was overruled by the unfairness of his accusations, the violence of the attack.

So he’d used the last of his strength to spit blood back into Jason’s face and hiss _‘Yes’_ because god- _fucking_ -dammit he hadn’t come this far to be told he was nothing. Not even by someone he was supposed to love. _Especially_ not by someone who was supposed to love _him._

He couldn’t see the other’s eyes behind his mask, but the last thing he remembered was Jason’s mouth twisting into an ugly scowl, and when he’d woken, he’d found the ‘R’ from his uniform had been ripped from his chest, was lying crumpled and blood-spattered on the ground beside him.

Tim still had the scrap of material in his hand as he lay on the cot, like he didn’t want admit defeat by having it separated from him. Like he wanted to remind himself that the badge was still his.

He didn’t know how long he’d lain there, minutes or hours, but after a little while Batman was standing by the bed, gentle hands checking over his injuries, examining the job the Titans had done patching him up.

“I shouldn’t have let this happen,” Bruce had growled, almost to himself. “I should have known he’d try to hurt me through you. I should have been watching him closer.”

And of course, that was the thing, wasn’t it? At the end of the day, it wasn’t even _about_ Tim. He’d been beaten bloody by his soulmate, and _it wasn’t personal._ Was that better or was it worse?

Bruce had taken Tim out to the landing pad, settled him into his seat in the batplane and done his seatbelt up for him like Tim was a little kid again.

“I’m… sorry, lad,” Bruce had said awkwardly, his hand gingerly clasping Tim’s uninjured shoulder. “I know you used to look up to him.”

It wasn’t Bruce’s fault, Tim had never told him who his soulmate was, but the sheer understatement of the situation had Tim holding back a manic laugh.

_‘I used to love him!’_ he wanted to shout, to scream, _‘I used to love him with all my goddamn heart!’_

He’d thought his soulmate was dead. And now, in a way, it seemed he still was. The boy he’d loved was gone. Tim had already resigned himself year ago to the prospect of a life with no soulmate. He was fine. He could do this.

_This changes nothing,_ he told himself fiercely that night, back in his bed at the manor.

_This changes nothing at all._

Tim was seventeen he was stripped of the Robin uniform, and struck out on his own as his predecessors had done before him.

And on those cold nights in the desert, exhausted but unable to sleep, surrounded by the enemies he was working alongside, Tim would sometimes stare at the words on his shoulder and fight back tears.

_You’re safe now._

His parents were dead. Bruce was gone. The friends and family who remained all thought he was delusional for pursuing his mission.

Damian hated him, had forced him from his place at Batman’s side. Dick, crushed by the weight of the responsibilities left by their mentor, had let it happen. Jason… Jason had put a batarang in his chest and left him for dead again, but what had he expected?

_You’re safe now._

He remembered how gentle Robin’s voice had been when he’d said the words to that lady in the alley. The words hadn’t even been directed at Tim. Most couples said their words around the same time, often one in response to the other. But no, not Tim.

It seemed that it was his fate to always be on the outside, looking in.

The parents who tried but didn’t know how to love a child, the surrogate family he’d forced his way into and only kept him around out of necessity, the soulmate whom he’d fallen in love with from afar and had spoken his words casually to someone else, without even knowing who Tim was.

Would Jason – would _anyone_ – ever say those words to Tim?

Would they ever be true again?


	2. Chapter 2

Thankfully, the dark days of Bruce’s disappearance did come to an end. Tim made his way back to the batfamily and so, eventually, did Jason.

And with Jason came hope.

The Red Hood, despite all evidence to the contrary (he had a reputation to uphold, thank you very much), was a romantic at heart.

He loved the idea of soulmates, loved the idea of soul- _words_ , loved the poetry of having the moment you fell in love with your partner commemorated forever on your skin.

He always enjoyed hearing about the many ways people had found each other, how seemingly meaningless phrases had suddenly been given context. He lived for the moment in novels when the protagonists spoke each other’s words and everything fell into place (or got a whole lot more complicated, depending on the story). There was just something so _thrilling_ about it.

Jason’s own words, just two, were on his inner forearm.

_Nine years._

He’d read them over and over again, trying to come up with some significance for the words, dreaming up different meanings they could have. He liked looking at them, knowing that one day they’d lead him to someone he’d love forever.

 _...One day_ being the key words there. However much he might daydream, it was always taking place in some far-off time in the future. That was where all his soulmate-based interactions belonged.

Right now, in the real world though? Not so much.

Jason had been interested in people before, certainly. He’d had a few dates, a few kisses, a few hook-ups, but it had never really gone further than that. He’d never fallen in love, but then, neither had he ever been in a place in his life where he’d wanted to.

Besides, he’d never really been soulmate material, what with the whole murderous-crime-lord stint, followed by his unsteady return to the already-dangerous vigilante life. The idea of dragging some poor civilian into his lifestyle was downright horrifying, and how could he even begin to explain all his issues to them, let alone ask them to _put up with_ said issues?

To even begin to deserve the love of a soulmate, Jason would have to leave the rage of the Pit behind him. Which, to be fair to himself, he’d been doing alright at lately. A big part of that was making peace with his family, which wasn't going smoothly per se, but wasn't going disastrously either. 

Tentatively, they’d begun to team up on overlapping cases, a drugs bust here, a smuggling ring there, until he’d found himself drawn back into the loop. He’d been called in as backup on a few Arkham breakouts and had since been added to the general comm link. The borders of his territory and patrol route had been made official, Oracle helped him with intelligence if he asked nicely, and when Alfred invited him to dinner on Sundays, he occasionally accepted. He’d even made it through a couple without picking a fight or leaving early.

Still, cooperation be damned, if he handed someone into the police who deserved death or a life sentence and saw them walk free thanks to the corrupt courts, he wouldn’t hold back. Just because he’d switched mostly to rubber bullets didn’t mean he didn’t carry live ammo anymore.

Of all the bats, Red Robin was the easiest to be around, which had been a surprise to Jason.

Tim took a while to warm up to the idea of Jason being around – which was more than understandable, given the hell Jason had put him through. They’d mostly kept their distance from each other at first, and often clashed when they crossed paths, but physical swipes were quickly replaced by verbal ones, and even those lost their sting and dulled down into banter after a while.

From there, they’d settled into a working truce. His suspicion allayed, Tim seemed tentatively to enjoy fighting alongside Jason rather than against him and now, a couple of years into their ceasefire, they had even actively chosen to team up a few times (especially now Steph and Cass often chose to work together, having spoken each other’s words a couple of months back).

Jason knew that the Tim Drake he’d hated so much had only been an idea, that he’d loathed what he stood for rather than the boy himself, but he hadn’t expected to _like_ the Replacement so much once he got to know him.

What Jason had mistaken at first for holier-than-thou aloofness was actually shyness, believe it or not, and it didn’t take much to get past that and get him rambling about a subject he liked if someone took an interest. Also, now that neither of them were Robin and he didn’t feel the need to compare their performance, he could admire Tim’s formidable skillset.

Credit where credit was due – the man was a goddamn genius. He wasn’t a master tactician like Dick was, but was one hell of a strategist, and if there was any background knowledge available for situation, you could bet that Tim knew it.

He was also fun to talk to. He had a particular brand of dry humour which Jason appreciated, and he laughed at Jason’s jokes too (well, the ones that weren’t about killing, anyway).

All of the above was why tonight, when Jason had come across Red Robin after patrol, sitting on the roof of Gotham cathedral eating a burrito, he’d decided on a whim to buy one for himself and grappled up to join him. Tim had been surprised, but not unpleasantly so, and the two were soon talking shop while they watched the traffic far below them.

“I’ve hit a dead end,” Jason admitted around a mouthful of tortilla when Tim asked how his latest case was going. “The supplier’s been dormant the last few years, only just got back into business this last month, so I’m having to dig into a bunch of fucking cold cases to get leads on their identity.”

Tim hummed sympathetically, sticking out his tongue absently to catch a trickle of juice escaping from the corner of his mouth. Jason blinked, distracted for a moment by the sight, then shook himself.

“Need to find out who bumped off their predecessor really, that would give me the biggest hint, but that’s a fuckin’ mess of a case all by itself. His ex was the main suspect, but they never arrested her. Didn’t have enough evidence, and since _she_ broke up with _him,_ there wasn’t much of a motive.”

“She still needs investigating though?” asked Tim, screwing his empty wrapper up into a ball.

Jason took the last bite of his own burrito and nodded while he chewed.

“She claims she was at some rich douche’s party at the time of the crime, and I’m inclined to believe her, but there’s no proof. It was five years ago, and held on some stupid cruise ship out in the bay. The boat’s security footage gets deleted after a year, and the only traces I’ve managed to dig up is some fuzzy black-and-white shit, not enough to identify anyone by.”

Tim tilted his head thoughtfully.

“Cruise ship five years ago?” he repeated. “That wasn’t the Radford’s, was it?”

Jason blinked, surprised, then snorted.

“Don’t tell me you were there, rich boy.”

Tim grimaced. “B made me. The Radfords took a shine to me for some reason, probably wanted to set me up their daughter or something. It was awful. I’d only just been adopted by B at the time. He didn’t even come with me, he was on some space thing with the Justice League, the traitor.”

“Oh no, the poor little rich boy had to spend an evening on a luxury yacht being fawned over by pretty girls,” pouted Jason. “What a tragedy.”

Tim huffed. “Don’t be an ass, Hood. You know those parties are torture. And anyway,” he fixed Jason with a triumphant look, “You should be glad I was there, because now I might be able to help you.”

He stood, pulling his grapple gun from his belt, and offered Jason a hand dramatically. Jason rolled his eyes, but allowed Tim to pull him to his feet anyway.

“What, don’t tell me you had a button-cam recording the whole evening or something, you creep? That’s such a Bat thing to do.”

Tim chuckled. “Not quite. I _was_ practicing with my new camera that night though. They’re back at the Nest, we can see if I got anything useful. Come on.”

He shot his grapple and took off. Jason slipped his helmet back on and followed automatically, only realising a few moments later that Tim had just invited him back to his base, seemingly without a second thought. It was a level of trust Jason hadn’t realised they’d reached.

He wasn’t quite sure why, but the thought made his chest feel oddly light.

“Here.”

Tim pulled out a plastic tub from one of his chaotic shelves and set it on the ground, unclipped the lid and tossed it behind him. Inside were stacks of printed photos, bursting out of their envelopes.

“Have to keep them down here because there’re so many vigilante shots,” said Tim, pausing briefly to push back his cowl and shake his hair out as he knelt down and began pulling out bundles of prints.

Jason, slouched in one of Tim’s computer chairs, followed the cue and took off his own domino, and watched in bemusement as the stack on the floor grew.

“Got yourself a hobby, baby bird?”

Tim glanced up. “Oh, uh, yeah, I guess so.” He chuckled self-consciously. “I guess you don’t have to put up with me off the job that much. Everyone knows how attached I am to my cameras.”

Jason found himself surprised. It wasn’t like he’d ever gone out of his way to get to know the Replacement, but he felt oddly guilty that he’d never found out photography was a big interest of Tim’s.

And, he noticed as he scooped up a batch and started to leaf through them, Tim was _good_ at it.

There was an envelope of the Gotham skyline at sunset, the gothic buildings silhouetted in black against streaks of pink and orange, and another of neon signs at night, taken from artful angles in dark alleys. One envelope was dedicated to the Wayne Manor gardens, Alfred’s carefully tended roses and camelias photographed with loving detail, and sweeping shots of the topiary in the mist.

“You’ve really got an eye for this kind of stuff, huh?” said Jason, impressed.

Tim flushed and ducked his head. “Thanks,” he said. Jason saw his lips curving up into a smile and felt a deep satisfaction at the sight.

As they reached the bottom of the box, Jason found two envelopes full of the Teen Titans – one labelled ‘Titans Together <3’ full of cute group shots and selfies, and the other labelled ‘Blackmail Material’ and full of embarrassing photos which made Jason cackle with glee.

“Is this Bart running into a wall?”

Tim glanced up and a big smile cracked across his face.

“That was so good,” he said. “So glad I had my camera out when he did that.”

Jason felt his own smile widen at the sight of Tim’s. He’d always been aware the Replacement was pretty, but the way he looked now, slightly flushed, eyes sparkling with laughter, he was downright _beautiful._

Tim took back the blackmail envelope and tucked it away, saying something about the whole point of blackmail being defeated if he shows them to people unprompted. Still distracted by that smile, Jason let him.

“Here we go,” said Tim, pushing a different envelope under Jason’s nose. He took it and flipped it over to read the label.

_H6D-400C MS Test-Run #2, Colours + Night-time (Radfords)_

“Colours and night-time?” he said.

Tim nodded enthusiastically. “The H6D can combine up to six exposures for one picture,” he said. “It’s one of the best on the market, even now. Look how well some of the dresses came out!”

Jason slid the stack of photos out into his hand and fanned a few out. Tim was right – for photos taken in the semi-dark on a moving boat, they were astoundingly clear and colourful.

“Now,” said Tim, snagging a laptop from the bench behind him, “What’s your suspect’s name again?”

He found an image of her to use as a guide, and the two set to sorting through the photos. It didn’t take long before a plump figure in a pale blue dress caught Jason’s eye, in the background of one of the pictures.

“Reckon this could be her?” he asked, leaning down to show Tim.

Tim sat up to get a better look, ending up closer than Jason had intended, but he was surprised to find that he didn’t mind having the other man in his space. He stole a quick sideways glance at him, noting his intense gaze and the little twist of his lips as he focussed on the photo.

“Oh _her,_ with the nice dress! Hang on…”

Then, all too soon, he was gone again. Jason tried not to acknowledge the little pang of disappointment as Tim slid back to the floor and started flicking through one of the stacks.

“Aha!”

Tim sat up again, a couple of photos in one hand.

“Her dress was all glittery, I took a few shots to try and get the effect right.”

Jason looked over the proffered images, and let out a triumphant exclamation.

“It _is_ her! Damn, baby bird, you did it!” Jason clapped Tim on the shoulder. “I owe you one.”

Tim made a mock bow and collected up the relevant photographs with a flourish, before knee-shuffling over to his scanner with a murmur about sending copies to Jason’s database. Jason nodded his thanks and gathered up the other party photos to tuck back into their envelope.

It was then that Jason happened to glance back down at the now almost empty photo tub. The only two envelopes left had tipped over, some of the prints spilling into the box. A familiar flash of yellow caught Jason’s eye, and he frowned.

“Wasn’t your cape black when you were in the green tights?”

“Black with yellow lining,” said Tim absently, without looking up from his task. “Why?”

Jason reached for the photo. “Who’s this then?”

Tim turned, and his eyes widened when he saw what Jason had.

“Oh,” he said, and his face reddened. “Those are… well, they’re… I suppose you could say those are the photos that started it all.”

Jason raised an eyebrow at that, then tugged the picture free of its envelope and looked down at it. It was Robin, in the middle of scaling a fire escape, yellow cape fluttering behind him. Only it wasn’t Tim, or even Damian.

It was _him._

“What the fuck?”

He tipped the rest of the envelope out, and the photos that spilled from it were more of the same. Jason, maybe fourteen years old, in the red tunic and regrettable scaly panties of his old Robin costume, flipping between roofs, throwing punches mid-fight, or perching on gargoyles, watching the streets below. Batman was featured too, in an outdated version of his suit, mostly brooding on rooftops, sometimes accompanied by Robin and sometimes alone. There were even a few of Dick in his final year as boy wonder, doing a handstand on top of a water tower, and hanging upside-down on a fire escape to talk to Batman, who was standing in the alley below.

Jason looked over at Tim sharply.

“How did you… don’t tell me you took these yourself?”

Tim chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “A kid’s gotta have hobbies.”

 _“Hobbies?”_ said Jason. “These are better than anything the press was managing back then! The angle on them – they’d have to have been taken from the _rooftops!”_

“Yeah I… kind of used to follow you guys on patrol?” Another nervous laugh.

Jason stared at the other man.

“You telling me you were just out fuckin’… _parkouring_ your way around the city with your camera? I heard you figured out who Batman and Robin were by watching Dick do a goddamn somersault, but this? This is next level. How the fuck did we not notice you?”

He was laughing now too, which seemed to put Tim more at ease.

“Bruce and Dick were pretty appalled when they found out,” he said brightly.

Jason snorted. “And you were just out there by yourself with no training? That’s so fuckin’ dangerous, how are you still alive?”

“I knew a little bit of self-defence,” said Tim, still giggling.

“Not self- _preservation_ though, apparently.” Jason shook his head and flicked through a few more photos.

“There’s more of me than Bats or Dick,” he noted. “Was I slower? Worse at hiding in the shadows?”

Tim shook his head quickly and blushed darker. “No,” he said. “I just liked seeing you. You were… kind of my hero, growing up.”

“What?” asked Jason dumbly, looking up. That wasn’t something he’d expected to hear. “Why?”

“Why?” repeated Tim, then laughed. “Are you kidding? You were Robin! The Boy Wonder!”

“What about Dick?” Jason pointed out. “He was there first.”

Tim shrugged. “I mean, I always admired Dick too, but that was… it was different. He always seemed so far off, so perfect. You were just this kid, not much older than me, who came from Crime Alley of all places, but you were out there flying over the roofs next to Batman! You were punching bad guys and saving the day! I thought you were the coolest person ever.”

The warm feeling in his chest was back, and Jason allowed himself a moment to preen internally at the unexpected praise before looking back to the photos.

“Can’t believe how tiny I used to be,” he muttered, to fill the silence. Then another thought occurred to him. “Wait, how old were _you?”_

“When I took these photos? Eleven, probably. Maybe twelve.”

“Jesus Christ.” Jason laughed incredulously. “Dunno why I’m surprised by all this,” he said after a moment. “This is the kid who tracked down Batman and told him to his face to get his act together, of course you weren’t going to be normal. Still, _eleven?”_

Tim laughed self-consciously. “What can I say?” he said. “I started early.”

“You been my fan for a while then, huh?” Jason teased, still internally reeling.

Someone had noticed him, looked up to him, _admired_ him. Not just for being Robin, playing a role indistinguishable from the first, but for being _him_ \- Jason, the kid from Crime Alley. And not just anyone – Tim. Resourceful, clever Tim, so much better than Jason in so many ways, had looked up to him as Robin – and _still did._ It made his chest glow with happiness.

“Mm,” hummed Tim, “Nine years.”

Jason froze, his train of thought thoroughly derailed. He _knew_ those words.

Under his sleeve, his soul-words glowed with sudden heat. No. _No._

He shifted his arm, flexing his wrist back minutely so his sleeve pulled up just enough for the end of his words to be visible. Sure enough, right before his eyes, the ‘s’ on the end of ‘years’ was darkening to brown. Jason let his sleeve fall back and tried to keep breathing normally despite his throat threatening to close up.

This couldn’t be right. Tim couldn’t be his soulmate. Not Tim, who Jason had tried to _kill,_ for fuck’s sake. What kind of sick joke would that be? Like his life - like _both_ their lives - hadn’t been messed up enough already. Sure, he knew he had a soulmate out there somewhere in theory, but he’d never thought it might be someone he already knew, let alone Tim Drake.

Tim, who was so talented and earnest and good and so very far out of his league. Tim, who deserved the world, not a dead-beat like Jason. Tim, who… _Fuck,_ he really was in love, wasn’t he? He’d gone and fallen in love with Tim. How _could_ he? He didn’t have the right, not after everything he’d done.

“Jason? Are you alright?”

Dimly, he realised he hadn’t replied to Tim yet, just stopped talking in the middle of the conversation.

“Wh… I…” he stuttered, but his mouth was refusing to form words.

Tim looked up at him inquiringly, the picture of innocence. His ice blue eyes searched Jason’s, his pink lips were parted slightly. Jason wanted to crush Tim to his chest and kiss him until he was gasping for breath. He wanted run away, _far_ away, _right now_ , because this _wasn’t happening_.

“I have to go,” he grunted, getting to his feet. The movement was so abrupt that Tim jerked back and nearly overbalanced. Jason was halfway to the exit before he realised it was rude to leave so suddenly when Tim had just helped him. He paused for a moment in the doorway.

“Thanks for the lead,” he called in a rush without turning around, then strode away.

“Ja- Hood!” called Tim, “Wait! I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-”

Jason knew he shouldn’t run away like this, but right now he couldn’t stand to be there a second longer. His helmet was already on, one leg already over his bike. The doors to the Nest were set to open automatically from the inside, unless Tim decided to activate the lockdown protocol, so Jason’s way out was mercifully unobstructed.

Refusing to look back, he revved his bike and sped away into the night.

Back in the Nest, Tim covered his face and groaned. Why, _why,_ had he thought Jason would want to see all the old pictures of himself?

_Here’s a lead for your case, and as a bonus fun fact, I’m gonna tell you how I used to stalk you during that period of life you try not to think about! Neat, huh?_

Idiot.

Things had been going so well between them too – it was easily the most friendly and talkative they’d been during a team-up. Jason had come to him rather than the other way around, they’d had a friendly chat, Jason had even taken the mask under his helmet off, so Tim could see his eyes.

Jason had seemed genuinely interested in Tim’s hobby, had even complimented him on his work. If only he’d stored the old Robin photos separately, then this wouldn’t have happened. But he’d been lulled into a false sense of security by Jason’s delight in his other prints, and thought they’d be fun to share.

Tim swept one more glance over the photographs, then turned abruptly and left to go upstairs, leaving them scattered on the ground behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I know fuck-all about photography and just googled some big sounding words for Tim to say, so apologies to anyone who actually knows cameras lol


	3. Chapter 3

Jason slammed the door of his safehouse behind him, tore off his helmet and threw it into the couch with all the force he could muster. He moved furiously around the apartment, working on autopilot to remove his boots and armour, stow his guns in the safe, and strip off his clothes.

He stormed into the bathroom and yanked the tap on, plunging into the stream of water without waiting for it to heat up. He gasped at the cold and scrubbed himself vigorously, as if the anxiety crawling over his skin was physical and could be washed away along with the post-patrol sweat and grit.

Eventually, the water turned warm, and Jason began to breathe more easily. He leant back against the wall and let the water cascade over him.

Tim was his soulmate. His soulmate was Timothy Drake. Despite the fact that it made no sense, he and Tim were meant to be together.

...He shouldn’t have run.

Soulmates usually said their words around the same time – if he’d stayed, would he have ended up speaking Tim’s? No, no, that was ridiculous. There was no way Tim could love him back, not yet. 

Still… should he tell him?

Having someone say your soul-words was usually a big deal, a happy moment, something you _shared_ , not something you panicked about and hid. Even if the feelings weren’t immediately returned, most people liked to know if they’d said someone’s words, and were happy to start a relationship based on the promise of future happiness. But then, most people’s soul-words weren’t said by someone who they’d almost killed in the past.

How would he even begin to broach such a topic?

_Hey Tim, you know how we’ve just kind of reached a stage where we can tentatively hang out and **might** almost be friends but we’re still walking on eggshells? Well, a funny thing happened – I just found out that fate has decreed I fall head-over-heels in love with you, and I expect you to start reciprocating soon. Ok? Ok. Good talk. _

Jason laughed mirthlessly at the thought, as he turned off the shower and began to dry himself.

He couldn’t even imagine Tim ever feeling the same way about him.

…But then, Tim clearly _used_ to like him, and seemed to be warming up to him again now, he reflected as he wrapped the towel around his waist and shuffled out into the main room. So maybe there was hope. Hell, the man just openly told Jason he used to consider him his hero as a kid, and-

_Oh shit._

_Tim used to consider Jason his hero as a kid._

He’d been so caught up in the surface-level flattery of that statement, and then so taken off-guard by Tim saying his soul-words, that he’d never stopped to consider the implications of that statement. Now, however, the realisation hit him full force.

Tim’s childhood hero had shown up out of the blue and violently and hatefully tried to murder him.

_Fuck._

Jason had always assumed that, before his return, Tim thought of him as the guy who came after Dick, the reason Bruce was distraught, the reason Tim wasn’t allowed to take risks. Just a suit in a display case, a cautionary tale. It was bad enough to be attacked by a stranger, but by someone you’d personally admired? The poor kid must have been shattered.

Jason slumped down onto the couch and stared dully at the opposite wall. Tim had already given him so much more than he deserved, by even being willing to _talk_ to him. How could Jason ever ask him for more?

How was this ever going to work?

Jason went off the grid for the rest of that night, and the following day, and the one after that. This wasn’t unusual behaviour; the Bats all knew that he still needed his space, and for the most part, this was respected.

He made his rounds at night, careful not to cross paths with Red Robin on patrol, then shut himself back up in his safehouse, where he could avoid everyone else and pretend everything was fine.

Still, his thoughts were eating away at him, and by sunset on the second day his restlessness had driven him up the fire escape and onto the roof, where he was pacing agitatedly.

He couldn’t avoid Tim forever. What was he going to do the next time he saw him? Could he bring himself to look Tim in the eye, knowing what he did?

Jason stopped pacing at the edge of the flat roof and turned to look at the view. This apartment was down near the harbour, so he could see the water. With the red-gold of the sunset lighting it, he could almost pretend that it wasn’t filled with pollution. As Gotham went, it was a pretty decent view.

Jason breathed in and out steadily, forcing his shoulders to drop as he tried to relax.

For a moment, it worked.

Then a soft thud sounded behind him, and he abruptly tensed again.

There were footsteps on the roof, the deliberate and distinctive noise of someone used to walking quietly who was making an effort not to sneak up on someone.

Jason sighed and turned, expecting Nightwing checking up on him.

“What do you want, Goldie?”

As soon as the words left his lips, he realised he’d been wrong. The person standing across the roof wasn’t Nightwing, but Tim. Not even Red Robin, just Tim, in a too-big hoodie with the hood up, Gotham Knights sweatpants and battered sneakers.

“Actually, it’s uh, me,” he said awkwardly.

Jason felt his heart skip a beat, but he recovered quickly.

“Well, what do _you_ want then?” he asked, turning back to face the harbour. 

“I, I just wanted to apologise,” said Tim, a little breathlessly, “For the other day. If I made you uncomfortable, you know, with the photos and stuff.”

Jason blinked, then felt a stab of guilt. He hadn’t considered that Tim might have thought Jason left so abruptly because of that. Yet another thing to fix. Fantastic.

“It’s all good,” he said dismissively, hoping to avoid a conversation. “The pictures weren’t the problem.”

“They weren’t?” Tim sounded puzzle, and Jason knew his mind would be racing to figure out what the real problem was now.

“No,” he said shortly. “Don’t worry about it. I’m fine, anyway.”

Tim scuffed his shoe against the concrete. “You don’t… you didn’t _seem_ fine,” he said after a moment.

Jason stayed silent, hoping Tim would drop it. He didn’t. Instead, he moved closer. 

Habit made Jason inclined to simply tell the other man to piss off, but as he looked down at Tim’s open, earnest face, he couldn’t bring himself to. The damned soul-words were right about one thing – for better or worse, Jason was in love with Tim, and he didn’t want to hurt him. He owed him an explanation, or at least part of one.

Jason shoved his hands into his pockets and looked away.

“Look, I… found something out recently, about… well, about myself, I suppose. I, uh, wasn’t ready for it. Still dealing with it, to be honest. I just need some space to think things over. Sorry for acting weird the other day.”

Tim tilted his head, his eyes narrowing slightly the way they always did when he was presented with a new clue in a case. Assessing, calculating.

“I… hope you don’t mind me asking this, I know it’s kinda personal,” he said hesitantly, “But did you, by any chance, hear your _words_ recently?”

Jason cursed internally. He’d thought he’d been sufficiently vague, but obviously it still enough for the _detective_. Still, Tim was the last person Jason could discuss this with right now. Time to bluff.

“What? Hell no.” He let out a surprised bark of laughter. “That came out of the blue, Replacement! You’re usually better at this.”

There was a moment of silence, just long enough for Jason to regret calling Tim ‘replacement’, where the two simply stared at each other. Tim looked away first.

“Look, you, uh… you go for your holster when you lie sometimes,” he said awkwardly, tugging at the strings of his hoodie.

As soon as he’d said it, Jason was aware that his hand had indeed twitched towards his gun. This time, he cursed out loud.

“Fuck’s sake,” he said, exasperatedly. “Ok, fine, whatever. You got me. I just really don’t wanna talk about this, alright?”

Tim was still playing with his hoodie strings.

“I just thought maybe we _should_ talk,” he said quietly, not quite meeting Jason’s eyes. “If we’re on the same page and stuff now.”

Jason frowned at him, not quite understanding.

“The same page?” he repeated suspiciously.

Tim dropped his hoodie string and his fingers crept to the neckline of his hoodie.

“I mean, you know, if you know now that we’re… well.”

Hesitantly, he tugged the loose collar to one side, exposing pale skin. Jason stared.

There were marks on Tim’s shoulder. Letters. They were too far away for Jason to read, but he didn’t need to read them to know what they were. Soul-words. _Spoken_ soul-words.

“Hang on, you…” Jason’s mouth went dry, he had to swallow. “You mean you already _knew?”_

Tim let go of his collar and shrugged awkwardly.

“Uh,” he said. “Yeah. …Sorry?”

Jason shook his head dumbly. This was too much to take in.

“We’re not doing this here,” he said abruptly, and walked away.

Behind him, Tim began to protest, but Jason just jerked his head in the direction of the fire escape.

“Come on,” he said. “I’m not having this discussion on the fucking roof.”

Tim sighed in relief when he realised Jason wasn’t dismissing him, and was quick to follow him down the metal stairs.

Jason led the way, his head swirling.

_Tim already loved him back. Tim already loved him back._

But that was impossible.

Wasn’t it?

As soon as they’d made it back to the apartment Jason turned to Tim, who had pushed down his hood and was looking around curiously, and demanded to see the words again. He needed to know they were real, that he hadn’t just somehow hallucinated it.

But no, there they were, clear as day, in a neat line in the hollow under Tim’s collarbone. 

_You’re safe now_

Jason stared at the words uncomprehendingly.

“When did I say that to you?” he asked.

Tim flushed and looked away.

“Um,” he said. “You didn’t.”

Jason frowned. “How are your words visible if I haven’t said them?”

Tim flapped his hands agitatedly. “No, no, you did say them, just not to _me.”_

Oh.

“Who’d I say them to then?”

“A civilian you saved.”

Jason nodded slowly. They’d worked together containing damage on a few Arkham breakouts and the like, he could well have said that to someone he’d brought to a safe zone without thinking twice.

“How long ago was this then?”

Tim looked at the floor.

“Same as the photos,” he said quietly. “Nine years.”

Jason felt his breath leave him in a rush, and he sat down heavily on the couch. For a couple of minutes, neither of them moved or spoke.

“Jason?” Tim prodded eventually, sounding concerned.

“Tim,” said Jason, “Are you telling me you’ve been in love with me since you were eleven?”

“Uh, well, like I said,” said Tim, back to twisting his hoodie strings, not quite looking Jason in the eye, “You were my hero. I was following you on patrol one night, and you saved a woman from being mugged. You took all three of them out by yourself, then helped the woman up and comforted her. You went from being this brave, fierce fighter to being so gentle and kind, in the space of like a minute, and eleven-year-old me didn’t stand a chance.”

He huffed out a short laugh. “I couldn’t take my eyes off you, didn’t even manage to take any photos that night. Then you told her ‘You’re safe now’ and I nearly dropped my camera off a roof, I was so excited.”

Joy and guilt were welling up inside Jason simultaneously, like he’d just been given a wonderful gift and knew it was meant for someone else. It was making his head spin.

“And you went all those years without saying anything?”

“When would have been a good time to tell you?” asked Tim. “You died, then you hated me, and now we’re… here. How do you just, out of the blue, bring up the fact that you’ve been in love with someone since you were both kids? I figured it was best to wait until it was mutual. Oh, speaking of,” he looked up. “Can I… can I see yours?”

“What?” said Jason, “Oh right. Uh… sure.”

He hadn’t considered that Tim hadn’t seen his own words yet. Jason tugged up his sleeve. The sight of his own words in dark brown instead of barely-visible was still new and unnerving, and he found himself looking away.

Tim, on the other hand, looked entranced. He reached out and trailed his fingers lightly over the words, causing Jason to shiver.

 _“Nine years,”_ read Tim. “The amount of time I’ve known.”

“This means that when I…” Jason could hardly bear to say the words, but he forced them out anyway. “When I tried to _kill_ you, you knew then. You knew it was your soulmate attacking you.”

Tim grimaced again.

“Well, yeah.”

Jason tugged his arm back.

“Look, Tim, I don’t…” The words caught in his throat. Jason swallowed and tried again. “I don’t think this is going to work.”

Tim blinked. “What?”

“This,” said Jason, gesturing between them, “Us. Being together. I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

Tim’s brow creased into a small frown. “Why not?” he asked carefully.

“Why not?” Jason repeated. “We shouldn’t be soulmates! I shouldn’t be in love with you! I-” His voice was rising. He forced himself to take a steadying breath so he wouldn’t start shouting. “I was horrible to you, I hurt you. Fuck, Tim, I tried to kill you more than once!”

“That’s in the past!” said Tim. “That’s not you anymore!”

“Oh sure, what’s some light attempted murder between friends, especially if it’s four whole years ago?” Jason laughed harshly. “Tim, this is ridiculous. This isn’t fair, you don’t deserve to be bound to someone like me, someone who…”

“I _deserve,”_ Tim cut him off, “a chance at happiness. Don’t you think?”

Jason stopped, then slowly looked up to meet Tim’s gaze. The younger man was staring at him intensely.

 _“Nine years!”_ he said again. “Think about it, Jason! I’ve known for nine years and I’ve never been able to do anything about it until now! I know it’s a shock, and if you need more time, that’s fine. But deciding that we shouldn’t even _try_ , just after knowing for a couple of days? _That’s_ not fair.”

Jason hadn’t considered that angle – the idea that Tim might still want him after everything, had been waiting for him all this time. In which case, yes, it would be cruel of Jason to deny them something they both wanted. But still…

“But I hurt you,” he repeated plaintively.

“Look,” said Tim, “There’s no avoiding it – you did hurt me, badly, several times. But things have… well, things have gotten better these last couple of years, so much better. Things are _good_ now, and I’m thankful for it. And I’ve forgiven you-”

Jason made a sharp noise of protest, but Tim held up his hand.

“No, let me finish. I _have_ forgiven you, that’s my choice to make. I know you weren’t in your right mind at the time, and you came back around to our side eventually, like I knew you would.”

He paused and chewed at his lip nervously. “I’m not going to make you do this if you really don’t want to, but if you do and you’re just holding back out of some misguided sense that it’s the noble thing to do…”

“Ok,” said Jason, holding up his hands in surrender. “Alright. If… if you’re sure you want this, then I do too.”

Tim sighed, relieved.

“Ok,” he said. “Ok. Good.”

They both looked back at the floor. 

“…So what now?” said Jason after a moment. “Where do we go from here?”

“I… I don’t know,” said Tim. “I mean, we’re still kind of new to this, aren’t we? Not the soulmate thing, just new to… well, to being friends. We can work together now, but there’s a lot we don’t know about each other, I guess.”

He and Jason both fell silent again. Then, Jason cleared his throat.

“Do you wanna go get coffee tomorrow?”

Tim blinked. “What, after patrol?”

“No, just… just during the daytime. At a café. Actually sit down at a table like normal people. Talk about stuff which doesn’t involve punching psychotic freaks in costumes.”

Tim smiled, his first real smile of the evening, and Jason’s breath caught at the sight.

“I’d like that.”

So they did.

Jason picked Tim up from his apartment and they walked through the park to reach Tim’s favourite café. They ended up staying and talking for four hours. And yes, it was a little awkward at first, but it was also open and honest in a way they hadn’t been able to be before. Both went home with a smile on their face and hope in their heart.

Another date followed, then another. On the fifth date, Jason took Tim back to his place – his favourite one, not just the lifeless safehouses the family usually saw – and cooked him dinner.

It was delicious and intimate and perfect, and as he sat opposite Jason and listened to him conclude his rant about the plot of the movie they’d watched together earlier, Tim thought that he couldn’t have been happier.

“I think,” Tim announced as he pushed away his empty plate, “that this is going to work.”

Jason looked up. “What’s going to work, pretty bird?”

“This,” Tim gestured between them with a smile. “Us.”

“I…” Jason swallowed. “Me too. At least, I hope so.”

Tim tilted his head at the uncertain look on Jason’s face.

“Something bothering you?”

Jason frowned.

“Not really. I just…” he sighed and shook his head. “I wish you hadn’t had to wait so long for it to be reciprocated, you know? I mean, I didn’t know you back then, so I couldn’t’ve done much, but it still makes me feel a bit guilty.”

Tim shook his head.

“I don’t think it would have worked any earlier. Not with the way things turned out.”

“Oh?” Jason sounded surprised.

Tim shrugged.

“I wasn’t ready to be with you when I was eleven. I basically worshipped you, and I’d never had anyone properly care about me before. It would have been too much, it wouldn’t have been good for either of us, I think. And after that, well…”

“Shit happened?” offered Jason wryly.

“Shit happened,” agreed Tim with a chuckle. “I obsessed over hero-Jason, then I hated villain-Jason. Jason the person though? Him, I think I can love.”

Jason went quiet, his ears turning pink, and his eyes sparkling before he blinked it away.

“…’Jason the person’, huh?” he said after a moment, smirking.

Tim flushed. “Shut up, we can’t all have your way with words.”

Jason reached across the table and took Tim’s hand in his larger one, running his thumb over Tim’s knuckles a couple of times before speaking.

“I’m glad you feel that way,” he said softly. “Getting to know you better these past weeks has been the best gift I could ever receive, and I’m more certain with every passing day that this was the right decision. I must be the luckiest man in the world to have you as my soulmate, and I couldn’t be more thankful.”

Tim had to take a moment to remember how to breathe, and then how to speak.

“Typical English lit majors,” he grumbled, knowing his whole face was probably bright red. “Of course you’ve gotta show me up by spouting the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard.”

Jason laughed, rich and deep, the sound making Tim’s whole body tingle, and he couldn’t help but smile back.

They cleared the plates away, then moved to the couch, where they watched TV in silence, Tim resting his head on Jason’s shoulder, enjoying each other’s company.

And when their eyes met, then slid closed as they leaned in, it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

Jason’s lips were warm and his kiss was gentle and firm, and Tim let himself get lost in the feeling.

When they pulled apart, he knew there were tears in his eyes.

“Sorry,” he said thickly, scrubbing his face with his sleeve. “It’s just… I can’t believe this is finally happening. It’s been…”

“Nine years?” asked Jason, smiling.

Tim chuckled wetly. “Yeah,” he sniffed. “Nine years.”

Jason turned and pulled Tim back against him snugly, and Tim sighed contently, letting his head rest against Jason’s broad chest.

“Well, god knows it took me long enough,” said Jason, “But I’m here now. I… I love you, Tim. And I’m sorry it took so long to get here, but I’m ready now. Ready to say it, to call it what it is. Ready to be here for you, the way I wish I could’ve been from the start. I’ve got you now, and I promise I’m not going anywhere.”

He hesitated for a moment, then his grip on Tim tightened slightly.

“You’re safe now.”

Tim shivered at the words, more tears springing to his eyes. Because this time, warm and secure in his soulmate’s arms, it was finally true.

“I know,” he whispered. “I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We reached the happy ending! Thank you for reading, and especially thank you to everyone leaving comments, you gave me the inspiration to get this work finished sooner than I was expecting to be able to.

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from the song of the same name by MIKA
> 
> I'm @in-fearful-day-in-raging-night on tumblr


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